


Let's Go Poke It With A Stick

by MycroftRH



Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (Comics)
Genre: Foggy Meets the MCU, Gen, Humor, Possible Body Horror, it's deadpool so things are occasionally creepy, it's deadpool so things are occasionally gross, possible creepy factor, should be a canonical tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftRH/pseuds/MycroftRH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt: "Foggy's first reaction to the vigilantes/super-heroes in his life... is to poke them with a stick."</p><p>Foggy meets some more superheroes.  And pokes them with sticks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go Poke It With A Stick

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt here: https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1296.html?thread=1442832#cmt1442832

There’s an arm on the floor of Matt’s apartment.

The fingers are wriggling.

Foggy considers screaming, which he thinks is an entirely reasonable reaction. It occurs to him that screaming probably won’t actually do much good, though. After all, there’s probably not much a zombie arm can do to him anyway. Okay, he has seen movies with zombie arms attacking people, Cabin in the Woods being the one that pops into his head first, and he’d rather not be thinking about that right at the moment while there’s a zombie arm in front of him, actually. But, like, in real life, there’s not much a zombie arm could really do, in practice. Probably.

Well, there’s only one way to know for sure. And he’s got to know. For science.

He grabs one of Matt’s sticks - it’s on the floor, and has a red mark on it that looks suspiciously like blood - and creeps towards the arm. It doesn’t have eyes or ears, or anything, but he doesn’t know the rules of zombie arms. Maybe it can sense him somehow. He darts forward and jabs it with the stick.

It sort of hops off the floor with a jerk and starts skittering towards him and now he decides it’s an appropriate time to scream, although what comes out seems to be more like a very unmanly squeak-squeal. It chases him up onto a chair, and he’s trying to poke it with the stick to keep it from climbing up one the legs, when a big red shape appears in his peripheral vision.

“Matt! Zombie arm! Get your zombie arm away!”

“Oh, I’ve been looking for that, thanks.”

Not Matt. Foggy looks up a bit, and down, and up, because the big red person doesn’t have an arm, and there’s a zombie arm still trying to grab at his feet, and they’re both coming closer. He waves the stick menacingly in the air, because there’s a Not-Matt, and a zombie arm, and he’s not quite sure which of them he should be smacking with the stick, but definitely at least one of them.

Not-Matt gets down on the floor out of range of his stick and grabs the zombie arm. Foggy’s rather grateful for that, and considers not hitting Not-Matt with the stick, until Not-Matt starts talking to the zombie arm.

“What did you wander off for? We’ve discussed this, you’re supposed to stay on. If you do this again, I’m just going to leave you there and get another one. Bad arm. Bad.”

And then Not-Matt, who he now realizes has a lot more black on his costume than Matt does, and no horns, which is a plus, but no visible face at all either, which is kind of creepy, sticks the arm onto his unoccupied shoulder. Which is much more than kind of creepy.

“Do you have duct tape?” Not-Matt asks, his non-zombie arm holding on to the zombie arm.

Foggy takes a second of staring to process and then remember where Matt keeps his duct tape. He backs up towards the appropriate cabinet, reaches behind him, realizes he’s too high up to reach it, and awkwardly crouches down. His butt runs into the cabinet and he has to shuffle forward. Finally grabbing the duct tape by feel, he stands up and approaches Not-Matt. He puts the duct tape on the end of the stick and reaches it out towards Not-Matt.

Not-Matt starts to go for the tape and his zombie arm starts to fall off. He grabs back for it.

“Could you help me with this? I could use a hand, here. No pun intended. Well, I mean, some pun intended. All pun intended. But I’ve done that pun way too many times. Mostly the other way around. Need a hand?”

Foggy is still holding the stick out with the duct tape on it. He’s not sure if this is because he’s still holding the duct tape out for Not-Matt or because he might need to poke something again and he wants to be ready.

There’s a knock on the window.

“Matt! Actual Matt!”

Foggy drops the stick and runs to the window to let the right red person in. Matt pulls himself in through the window much more gracefully than seems fair.

“I told you to stay away from him, dead pool,” Matt says in something that’s sort of halfway between a Batman growl and the whine of someone who’s tried to get somebody to behave way too many times and has finally realized that it’s not going to happen. Foggy’s familiar with this whine because he finds himself using it fairly often. Foggy’s not sure what the part about a deceased pool means, but maybe it’s a threat. He hopes not. He thought he’d covered the not-killing-people rule with Matt.

“DD, my redness buddy! I need a little help here. My arm ran off. And I only said, like, fifty-three words to him. Unless the dialogue’s been edited since I counted. How’s your day been? You look like you still have all your limbs attached. That’s always a plus.”

Foggy picks up the duct tape and hands it to Matt. “His left arm’s come off. I - I think he wants to duct tape it back on.”

“I know, I brought it back. I found it in a dumpster. It smelled worse than the trash.” Matt takes the duct tape to Not-Matt, tears off a piece, and reaches for Not-Matt’s zombie arm shoulder. Foggy instinctively steps forward. He would prefer Matt not touch any zombie arms.

Matt fumbles with his fingers over the shoulder for a moment, trying to find a place to attach the duct tape under Not-Matt’s spandex. (Overly tight spandex. Foggy suddenly feels very grateful that Matt’s armoured suit, though form-fitted, is thick enough to not, um, well, around the crotch, um, yes.)

“I totally forgot to introduce myself! Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth, the Regenerating Degenerate. I would wave, but my arm’s misbehaving right now, hey! Move those fingers a little to the left, gorgeous, you’re missing the sweet spot.”

Fortunately, Foggy’s very used to determining who someone’s talking to without being able to see eye-line.

Matt’s still fumbling with the arm, rather unsuccessfully. “Foggy, could you tape this while I hold it?”

“I’m not taping a zombie arm!”

The Not-Matt that Foggy thinks identified himself as “Deadpool”, somewhere in the middle of that babbling (which means Matt wasn’t threatening him, earlier; that’s good, he wouldn’t want to think Matt was backsliding) starts to bounce a little. Matt almost drops the arm.

“Zombie arm! I haven’t called it that before. I should use that for Halloween. I could decorate my lawn with zombie arms. If I had a lawn. Do either of you have a lawn I can borrow for Halloween?”

Matt doesn’t bother to answer, just keeps trying to find a way to balance the arm while taping it.

Deadpool/Not-Matt doesn’t seem as threatening anymore. Nutty, but more or less harmless. Foggy’s used to nutty, though the style he’s accustomed to is less enthusiastic. He sighs and raises his eyes to the ceiling then approaches the two ridiculously-clad crazy people. Closer up, he notices that there are handles of something showing above Deadpool’s shoulders. He chooses to believe that they’re stick-club-things like Matt’s and not swords. They look like swords.

Matt reaches a hand back towards him with the tape; Foggy takes it and Matt shifts his hands so they’re both holding the arm against the shoulder. Foggy tears off some tape and brings it up towards the skin. He sees that the arm and the shoulder are sort of trying to reach out to each other, veins and nerves and other gross stringy stuff that shouldn’t be visible stretching across the small gap. He notes this in a clinical sort of manner. Ah, yes, this person’s insides are squirming about like worms. Fascinating. He saw the space whales, back when, this is not all that unusual in the big scheme of things, really, objectively. Perfectly normal, relatively speaking. Those things on Deadpool’s back are definitely swords. Great. Excellent. Lovely. 

With the zombie arm securely attached to its owner, he steps back slowly, calmly, and without haste. No haste at all. He takes a moment to wonder about the lack of blood. His mouth decides to comment. “Shouldn’t there be blood gushing all over your floor?”

“Holdover from the Comics Code Authority?” Deadpool suggests, in what appears to be intended as an answer to Foggy’s question. Foggy nods sagely as though this answer makes some sort of sense.

Matt steps away from Deadpool, with the arm no longer requiring assistance to stay off the floor. The arm’s fingers wiggle, then Deadpool lifts it up and waves at them. “Zombie arm says hi!”

Foggy’s eyes stay fixed on the wiggling fingers, like the arm is actually the one talking.

Matt plants himself in front of Foggy and crosses his arms. “Zombie arm needs to say bye.”

Foggy gets the distinct sense that Deadpool is pouting, even though he can’t see his face.

Matt evidently gets the same impression. His voice deepens back towards the Batman growl. “Now.”

Deadpool droops. “You know, there are plenty of other heroes who would be thankful for my sparkling bubbling effervescent company.”

Matt doesn’t budge. “Then go share your bubbles with one of them.”

“Fine,” Deadpool answers, dragging his feet towards the window. (Is there some sort of rule that superheroes aren’t allowed to use doors?) He swings his legs out over the side. “Spider-bae said he might come over later, Bee-Tee-Dubs,” he throws back towards them as he throws himself out of the window. There is a sort of splat and a crunching noise a few seconds later.

Matt drops his horned head into his hands and groans.

**Author's Note:**

> In theory this should have at minimum one more chapter with Spidey (gotta love that Red Team). I'd also enjoy writing some other MCU characters, because Tony and Steve's reactions to being poked with sticks could be hilarious, and I desperately want to find some crackish excuse for Foggy to meet the Guardians of the Galaxy because him poking Groot or Rocket would be, just, the best, pretty much.
> 
> In practice, my record thus far suggests I will never, in fact, get around to, technically, doing, so to speak, any of that. Whatsoever.
> 
> We'll see.


End file.
